Foundation
by Scrappy LeMonte
Summary: The second story in my Alternate Universe series. Catherine's physical recovery is complete. She continues to learn about the beliefs held by the 'hippies' and Vincent's people. She must once again choose between values she's held all her life, and a new way of thinking and believing.
1. Chapter Four - Rebuilding

They'd cycled, lifted free weights, and swam. They sat on the shore, looking out over the lake.

"What do you want to do now?" asked Vincent.

"Tag," answered Catherine. She shoved his shoulder. "Not It!" she yelled, and took off running. Vincent smiled, and watched after her.

_She looks good_, Vincent thought. For three weeks, they'd been working to rebuild her strength, and regain the use of her body. Catherine had surpassed by far all the goals Father had set for her. She was _wicked _powerful. Watching her, he could see quadriceps, hamstrings, calves, every muscle in her legs cut to sharp definition. She was wearing a tank top, exposing the deltoids in her shoulders, her biceps, triceps, her forearms, every muscle ripped and strong. He knew her back and abdomen were just as robust.

He set out after her. She was tearing up the hillside. He started to catch up to her as she came to the crest. She cut to the right, and pulled away. The ground sloped down gradually for about two hundred feet to a bluff that jutted out above deep water. He followed, just close enough to brush her arm with his fingertips. She whooped and pulled away. They were within twenty feet of the edge of the bluff. He mustered his speed, scooped her up and held her tight with his left arm, and jumped off the bluff. They surfaced holding each other, and kissed.

Her eyes twinkled. "Let's do it again—I bet you can't catch me this time!" They swam to shore.

"No diving," he reminded her.

"No diving," she answered. She had a crack in her C4 vertebrae. "Give me a five second head start," she said, and took off.

She was quick. She charged the hill, legs pumping over ground, arms pumping air, chest swelling and contracting. As she crested the hill, she heard him at the bottom. _Argh! He's too fast!_ This time, she went left. Soon, she felt his fingertips on her arm. But this time, she skidded to a stop, regained her balance, and cut back to the right. He couldn't stop and maneuver that quickly; he ran several more steps before he could change direction. She put all her heart into her effort and ran for the edge of the bluff. He grasped air as she flew off, barely evading him.

She surfaced just after he did. "Were you trying your best?" she demanded.

"Yes, I was—" He glided toward her.

"You were? Really?"

"I was, I was absolutely trying my best." He put his arms around her and tread water for the both of them. She put her arms around his neck.

"You're trying to make me feel good."

"_No_, no, I was trying as hard as I could." He smiled; he was delighted with her. "You out maneuvered me. If it had been a competition of my strength versus yours, I would've won; I'd win every time. But that," he was clearly impressed, "was quite a feint."

"I think this is the first time you've been proud of me."

"Oh, no, no, no," he said very quickly, very seriously. "Don't think that. You've been through a lot of pain, and never complained. And you've changed. You've let the beauty of your heart shine through so we can all see it. I'm very proud of you, always."

She smiled the warmth of her heart at him. She leaned in and they kissed. She pulled back and ran the tip of her tongue, slowly, just inside his lips. She raised her hand to her mouth, licked the tip of her ring finger, and used it, in accompaniment with her tongue, to caress his lips, every so softly.

His body started to undulate, and he ran one hand up her back; he moaned very softly. Catherine could feel him slipping off to that magic place where men lost control, and let go.

Very suddenly, he pulled away from her. "Catherine, let's swim to shore."

"What's wrong?"

"We'll talk."

They swam in, and sat down in the short grass.

"What happened?" she asked.

He looked at her and smiled. "Don't be distraught. It's a good thing. What happened was that I…wanted…" He sighed. "I wanted to lay you down, peel off your clothes, and enjoy your sweet, sweet body…" His eyes roamed over her with almost palpable hunger.

Catherine smiled. "What's the problem? I'd like that."

"Here's the problem. Right now, we have a bond. I feel what you feel. When we make love, the bond will become complete; you will feel what I feel, as well."

"Also a good thing, I'd like that, too."

"Once the bond is complete, it's irrevocable. There's no such thing as divorce. There's no legal separation. No taking a break, no bouncing. We will be joined until the day we die. We will die on the same day, at the same time. I will not be able to live without you, nor you without me."

"So we have to be sure we want to make that commitment?"

"Yes."

"So we have to be _abstain_."

"Yes."

She sighed. "Okay."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"It's going to be difficult."

He looked out over the lake. He inhaled sharply, and exhaled. "The way you touch me, the way you kiss me…the way you moan and move your body in my arms…I think you enjoy sex, my love."

She smiled. "I enjoy _you._ I trust you, Vincent. If this is what we need to do, we'll do it." She laid her hand on top of his. "Lead on."

He smiled and covered her hand with his. "You know, this would be a great time for us to visit with my family. Let's get cleaned up and go over there for lunch."

Her mouth fell open. A groan came out, then a sigh. "Oh, well," she said, "yeah, okay. I didn't get to see too much of them at that picnic, I just basically met them. What are they like? What's your mother like? What's your father like?"

He stood up, then reached down for her. He kept hold of her hand as they began walking back to the dorms.

"I don't know, they're like people, I guess. I just thought, it's been awhile since the horses had anyone ride them. Do you want to ride horseback to the village?"

"What a fun idea!" she said, smiling. _Ugh!_ She thought. _I do not want the first impression I make to be of stinking like a horse…_

"You don't really want to?" he guessed.

_There will be certain disadvantages to this bond…_ "Well, I don't want to reek of the barnyard while we're having lunch…"

"Oh, yeah. No, don't worry, they're washed down every week, brushed every day. You know, that could become your job."

"How fun would that be?" she feigned excitement. He looked at her. She signed. "Yeah, that might be okay, I don't know," she almost mumbled.

"…proud of you…" he intoned, smiling.

* * *

><p><em>Maybe I <em>would_ like to take care of these horses_, she thought. They were riding beautiful Pinto ponies, primarily brown with splashes of white. Vincent had tried to help her mount, and she had tried to let him. But then he gave her that sideways look that she was beginning to get used to, and he started asking her if she'd ridden horses, where had she ridden, starting at what age, how many competitions? What kind of competition? How many? Polo?

And after solemnly promising to hold the horse to a walk, no trotting, galloping, or jumping, no competitiveness whatsoever, they were on their way.

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't need any help?" he asked.

"I don't know, you kind of assumed I did," she answered with no more emotion than if she'd asked about the name of a tree.

They rode for a long time in silence. She looked at Vincent, sitting perfectly erect; he didn't use reins, but guided the horse using his knees and heels. Catherine had read somewhere, that's how the Native Americans used to guide their horses. _God, that's just what he looks like, too, a proud Native American, riding in silence, down a lonely forest path, sunlight filtering through the forest canopy…he was glowing gold and bronze…fiercely independent…strong…brave…free…_

He arched his back, then turned to her. "Catherine? Whatever it is you're thinking about, please, stop…remember, I feel what you feel, and right now…" He widened his eyes at her as he tugged at the crotch of his pants; she looked away.

"Sorry. But you look really good…I mean…really…_good_…"

"Stop it!" he cried, tugging.

"I'm sorry! Okay, I'm sorry, I'm not looking at you anymore. I'm looking away from you. I'm not thinking about you. Not going to think about you," she said, and of course, immediately felt the actual thrill of kissing him…

She winced as she felt his eyes burning holes through her.

"Vincent, did I ever tell you that I went to see the sixth game of the 2014 World's Series in Kansas City? Oh, yes, I remember the fifth inning, Moustakas grounded a double over first-base, past Brandon Belt and down the right-field line. Then Escobar hit a bouncing grounder to Belt, and got tagged out at_ first_. Peavy was yelling "Home!" and Salvador Perez was tagged out at third…"

Sometime later, she breathed a sigh of relief that she'd finally stopped thinking about you-know-what. But she had to ask…

"How the hell has your society functioned for all these eons? This has got to be _thee_ singularly most wacked method of courtship and mating on the face of the planet-"

"How the hell do you take it upon yourself to judge my society? You don't know anything about my society," but just as he was building up to an emotional crescendo, he scaled back down, "which is why we are here. _Dosal Dayeh_." She followed his line of sight down to the valley below, where an arcadian village, idyllic, lay nestled. Small, tile-roofed stucco cottages set in half-moon patterns radiated from a common center, where it looked like a farmer's market was organized.

Vincent was well known and well loved in this village, judging from the greetings they received as they rode through the marketplace. He finally had to dismount to avoid being pulled off his horse. As he led the ponies through the crowd, Catherine saw many Taj males, some human men, and many human women, everyone buying and selling. She listened, fascinated, as Vincent began speaking in Taj to his fellows. He tied the ponies to a hitching post, and Catherine dismounted. He held out his hand to her, and as she took it, he said, "_Meenya veetha_," to his friends. "_Mayo koraso_," he said, and smiled at her.

He ushered her into the Chemist's Shop, which his mother, Sarah Stephens, owned and operated. After they exchanged greetings, Vincent said, "I wonder if you would excuse me? I want to talk to Father." Catherine raised her eyebrows. "My actual father," Vincent explained. "He publishes a newspaper."

"Certainly," said Catherine. She wouldn't mind having a private conversation with Sarah.

"By all means," said Sarah at the same time. She wouldn't mind having a private conversation with Catherine.

There were no customers in the store. Sarah strode to the front and hung the 'closed' sign, and locked the door.

"Catherine, let's sit down in the back, and get a cup of coffee," said Sarah.

"Sounds great," Catherine answered.

Sarah was explaining the basics of Taj culture. "First," she said, "the name of our race is not 'Taj'. The humans call us 'Taj' because it's short for 'montage', a work of art made up of a mix of different materials. They see us as part lion, part human. We see ourselves as a race of people, and we call ourselves _Mayopelley_, which means 'honey colored fur'. The males have a kind of a race memory, and we believe we've existed on earth as long as humans. We've lived in the Americas, side by side with the Native Americans. Our males were more susceptible to European viruses than the Native Americans, and they were almost made extinct by small pox and measles. They became a rarity, and have been living in hiding for generations. Only the men have the leonine features. The males marry human women, and if they have children, the girls are human, the boys are Mayopelley."

"Now, about this bond—"

"First, I have a few questions for you."

It was a reflex: she went into attorney mode. She looked directly into Sarah's eyes, smiled and said, "Lay 'em on me."

Sarah looked directly into Catherine's eyes and asked, "How are you going to live here with him?"

Catherine's attorney armor fell away, and her entire countenance dropped, her shoulders, her head, her eyes. Because she'd been asking herself the very same question for weeks, and still didn't have an answer.

"You know, it's pretty simple for everyone I know. I'm going to say I've decided to join the commune. And they can raise their eyebrows and shake their heads, and consider me crazy. The one problem, the one real problem I have, is my dad." She paused, because the next words were heavy and hard to say. "I don't know how to tell my dad. And I'm sick at heart, because I know it's gonna hurt."

Sarah took her hands. "We will all be here for you. You don't have to be alone anymore."

"What do you mean? I've never been alone."

"You've always been alone," answered Sarah.

"What has Vincent told you?"

"It's not him. It's you. Everything you do just screams, '_I don't need any help!_' _'I got this!' 'Thanks, anyway!'_"

Catherine sat silent for a long time, then blinked, and a tear ran down her cheek. "It's starting to hurt, already," she said. Sarah put her arm over her shoulders.

* * *

><p>Vincent strode briskly to the publishing house. He entered, and was glad to see his father was alone. They gripped each other's forearms in greeting.<p>

"Father," he said, "I am desperate to speak with you."

"What is it?" asked Riordan. The resemblance between them was strong, Riordan having darker coloring, brown eyes, the same height, same build. He was standing behind a work table, files, books, paper spread over the top.

"Catherine and I have started to bond."

"Yes, you've told me."

"Father, my _kobee__s__ar_ for her, it's overwhelming…"

"Good, that's how it should be," he said, smiling.

'_Love divine,_

_All love excelling_

_Joy of heaven _

_To earth come down.'_

Bartlett."

"Yes. But I'm almost afraid to be in the same room with her! I don't see how I can _bermanehser empedasus _until the ceremony."

Riordan shrugged. "So limit yourself to _korekunda sayca_ with her."

Vincent widened his eyes. "I don't think I'd be able to stop."

Riordan took in a breath and nodded. "Ah, yes. The trick is to make her _dartudo_ first. When she does, your body is tricked into thinking you did, too."

Vincent blinked. "It can't be that simple."

"Yep. It's really best if you _dar'morcam abokka_…"

Vincent leaned, palms down, on a desk. "How did I not know, not realize?"

"We're not usually concerned with how to not do it, are we? Guy talk usually isn't about how to not do it."

They laughed. A huge burden shifted off Vincent's shoulders.

* * *

><p>Vincent re-entered the Chemist's Shop, a spring in his step, light-hearted—and saw Catherine sitting by Sarah, dabbing her nose with tissues, eyes red-rimmed.<p>

He looked at Sarah. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing."

"She was fine when I left her here. You broke her."

Catherine looked up then, and smiled. Vincent brought a bouquet of field flowers from the market out from behind his back, knelt down, and presented them to her.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm afraid of telling my dad that I'm staying here."

Vincent nodded. "That's a heavy burden, Catherine. Will you let me help you with it?"

She nodded. "It's easy," he said. "Hold me." She put her arms around his neck, he put one arm around her waist, one behind her back. He held her close. Gradually, their hearts beat to the same rhythm, their breathing took on the same pattern. The image of a white dove came to her mind.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, surprised and relieved.

He smiled. "Good. I've got good news for you. Do you feel like shopping in the market? We'll get a few things."

"Shopping? Always," she smiled.

The air was fresh, the sun was bright. Birds were chirping, children were laughing. Shopping with Vincent was fun, fun, fun. They bought wine, cheese, bread, apples, grapes. They were passing a Mayopelley version of a boutique, and some body lotion caught Catherine's eye. She sighed, "Ooooooo," involuntarily. Vincent stopped. He smiled, and picked up the bottle. Then he noticed a bottle of massage oil, scented with a complementary fragrance. He bought them both for her. They stopped at the gold smith's shop, and looked at wedding bands.

"Are you ready to pick out a design?" he asked her.

She shook her head. She was too excited; her heart was pounding. He smiled, and squeezed her hand.

They walked on to the inn, where they met Sarah and Riordan for lunch.

"You two look like you're enjoying yourselves," said Riordan.

"Shopping was fun," said Catherine. "And now I feel like I've stepped into _Don Quixote_. This inn is wonderful!"

They chatted, drank, ordered, ate.

"Vincent, did you tell me you had good news?" Catherine remembered.

"Yes, I do. _Papai_? Could we use the cabin for a few hours?"

"Of course, _Moso._"

"Catherine, you will love it. It's at the top of a hill, so the view is astonishing, plus it's private. And there's a hot spring up there—you've got to try it," said Sarah.

Catherine looked at Vincent, but he did not return her look. After lunch, they mounted their ponies, and set out for the cabin.

"Vincent? Is this going to be okay?" she asked as they set out.

He smiled. "Yes," he answered.

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"For now," he answered. "Why don't you enjoy the view?"

She looked out into the forest, green, green, dense growth of trees, tall, tall trees. It appeared to go on forever, infinite, timeless. The birds were flitting from tree to tree, to the ground, back up to the trees, feeding their babies. Squirrels barked at them. Grass rustled when the rabbits caught sight of them, and scurried away. Otherwise, it was very quiet, and she felt at peace. She was still trying to give herself permission to feel peaceful and not intense, rushed, pressured.

The cabin was a small log cabin, and very charming. "It's beautiful," she said.

"Yes," he answered.

They tethered the horses in sweet grass, and Vincent pumped their trough full of cold, fresh water. He opened the cabin door for her, and she stepped in. There were no partition walls, and the hardwood floors were whitewashed pine. Light flooded in from the windows. The airy ambiance felt magical. Vincent laid their shopping bags on the kitchen counter. He turned to her, and took her shoulders in his hands.

"At last, I can tell you my news," he said softly. He looked into her lovely green eyes, and had to catch his breath. He pulled her close, held her tightly, and kissed her, long and deep.

He pulled back, panting, a little dizzy. "We can make love," he whispered. Her eyes popped open wide, her jaw dropped. "Not intercourse, but…in Maypelley it's called _dar'morcam abokka. _It's…" he whispered the translation in her ear. "Are you okay with that?"

"Oh, my god, _ye-es_! Yes…Vincent!" she cried. Her eyes narrowed, and she clutched the fabric of his shirt in both her hands.

He started to unbutton her shirt. The bed was in the back left corner of the cabin, and they moved toward it, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake.

"Kiss me like you did when we were swimming…" he murmured.


	2. Chapter Five - Dreamers

"We have to eat," he murmured, close to her ear.

They lay facing each other, in an embrace. She had not opened her eyes, but he knew she'd been awake for a few minutes.

"…you're the sensible one…" she said just above a whisper, and tightened her hold.

"C'mon," he wheedled, "I've got our day planned: we get dressed, go down to the village for breakfast, lunch, actually, then…we look at some wedding bands, because…you know…"

"Maybe I want to hear the words."

He nestled her closer, and caressed her back and arm. He pressed his chest forward, and she could feel his beating heart. "That's why," he whispered. "There are no words." She kissed the spot, then covered it with her hand.

He drew a breath. "Then, we come back here, we listen to music, we sing, we dance…we love…"

"What then?" she asked when his voice trailed off.

He laughed softly. "By then it will probably be time to eat again. I just thought, we could have dinner with my parents."

She joined his laughter. "Sounds great. Sex, sleep, eat; repeat."

* * *

><p>When they arrived at Vincent's parents' house, Riordan swang the door open wide and swept them in.<p>

"This is wonderful! Vincent's brothers and sisters are coming for dinner as well, so we can all eat together!"

They arrived soon after, three brothers, Rori, Ultan, and Tierney, two sisters, Juliet and Portia, and all the spouses.

"Cathy, so good to meet you!" they all cried when introduced.

Sarah found comfort in orderliness, and seated them formally. She assigned each Mayopelley a woman to escort to the table, and spouses did not sit together. Catherine sat at Riordan's right at the head of the table, Vincent at Sarah's right at the other end.

"It's good to meet you, and a _relief_ to meet you!" Ultan's remark was met with laughter.

"We were almost starting to worry about our brother!" cried Tierney.

"Meaning?" challenged Vincent.

"Meaning we are all very relieved to see that he waited for the most beautiful woman from the outside world to arrive," Riordan cut in quickly. "A toast, to our lovely new daughter and sister, Catherine." They drank, then Sarah called out for everyone to start passing serving dishes.

Portia leaned close to Catherine. "Ultan and Tierney made a dangerous joke. To imply that a Mayopelley male is homosexual is a very serious insult."

"So, Catherine, has Vincent explained to you that you build your own house?" asked Juliet.

"No, he has not!" cried Catherine, surprised. "We're going to build our own house?" she asked him.

"Yes."

"Vincent, I don't know anything about building houses! Why?"

"Keeps the real estate developers out," Garrett answered. He was Juliet's husband.

"Oh, I can see that. But, Vincent—"

"It will be fine, don't worry," Vincent answered.

"You'll learn fast," said Portia, and everyone smiled.

"How can you know that?" asked Catherine.

"Because," started Portia, and everyone chimed in to finish, "you can't get married until the house is finished!" Then they all laughed.

_They're laughing like something's funny!_ thought Catherine. "Why?"

"It's our custom," answered Cindy. She was Tierney's wife.

"Let me ask! Let me ask!" cried Joan. She was Ultan's wife. "Catherine, how many bedrooms do you want?"

She choked. In her circle, the minimum would have been eighteen. She tried to play it off. "I haven't decided. Vincent, how many do you want?"

He had a feeling. "Twenty-three."

"Well, thank goodness we're at least in the same ballpark," said Catherine, who was immediately confused by all the laughter. Even Vincent smiled and shook his head.

"My love," he said quietly, "we will have a house just like everyone else's, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It will be our home, and it will be filled with love, and happiness, I promise."

"Don't worry, Cathy, if we're not giving you a hard time, we don't like you!" boomed Donal, Portia's husband.

_As if I gave a fiddler's fuck what you buffoons think_—she started to think, while smiling her tried and true 'sweetie smile' as she thought of it, because if she were sweet, her smile would look just like that. But then a very small voice from the very back of her head whispered, _'Is that the best you can do? These people really do like you.'_ She raised her eyes and looked at them. She smiled, nodded, laughed and said, "Yeah, it's funny."

They spent a few more days at the cabin, then returned to the farm. The first morning they were back, they were on their way to breakfast when Father called Vincent to his office to look at some work schedules. Vincent bent down to kiss her and said, "Save me a seat." Catherine went ahead.

Fifteen minutes later, he entered the dining room and saw her sitting at the approximate middle of a long table, smiling wordlessly at the commune residents. They were smiling wordlessly at her.

He collared Randolph. "What's going on?"

"We got a pool to see who talks first. You want to buy a square?"

Vincent shoved him away, and strode up to the serving window.

"What'll it be?" asked William.

"Anything but stew," he answered.

"How about some jerky? We have a lot of that. Venison, turkey, rabbit, squirrel, raccoon, teriyaki, spicy, Cajun, savory, honey mustard, Old Bay, peppercorn…you blew off a lot of steam."

One of the servers filled a plate and handed it to Vincent; he and William still staring at each other. He took a glass of water from the tray, and made his way to a spot across from Catherine.

Scott was sitting there. Vincent put his tray and water down on the table, lifted him up and said, "You're done." Scott grabbed his tray and moved off to find another seat. Vincent sat down.

"How long is this going to continue?" He asked Catherine. "You have to talk."

"I'm actually doing great not talking," she answered.

"They can't get to know you if you don't talk to them."

"Yes."

He sighed. "You should let them get to know the woman I waited so long to meet. The woman I cherish."

"I don't about that. I don't know how to let them get to know me. I've spent most of my life hiding. Revealing myself feels like being naked. And there's a great big part of me that's not too pretty, is it? I don't like it when people don't like me."

"Maybe you can learn to trust these people. Trust them to like you even if you're not perfect. Trust them to accept you, even if they disagree with you. I'm going to recite a poem for you:

_To dream the impossible dream_

_To fight the unbeatable foe_

_To bear with unbearable sorrow_

_To run where the brave dare not go._

_To right the unrightable wrong_

_To love pure and chaste from afar_

_To try when your arms are too weary _

_To reach the unreachable star._

_This is my quest._

_To follow that star._

_No matter how hopeless,_

_No matter how far._

_To fight for the right_

_Without question or pause._

_To be willing to march into hell_

_For a heavenly cause._

_And I know_

_If I'll only be true_

_To this glorious quest_

_That my heart_

_Will lie peaceful and still_

_When I'm laid to my rest._

_And the world will be better for this._

_That one man, scorned and covered with scars_

_Still strove with his last ounce of courage_

_To reach the unreachable star_

What do you think?"

"It's beautiful."

"I believe in those words, Catherine. I believe in them with all my heart."

"That's why I fell in love with you. I never loved before I met you."

"What would you say if I told you that poem describes this commune?"

"I don't understand."

"You're making a decision to turn your back on all the family and friends you've ever known, to give up your life as it's been until now, and join this community. That poem is our credo, we live by it. We—_I_ ask you to live by it, too."

"That's a tall order…that poem is a song they wrote for the movie version of _Don Quixote_. I think…yes, I'm sure, Don Quixote was talking to Dulsinea when he sang it. He was explaining to her that he was on a mission, a quest, and what his quest was." She paused, and looked at their faces, expectant, hopeful. "Are you on a quest?"

"Yes, Catherine, we are," he answered.

"Catherine, if I may?" said Father. "I would like to share some of what I believe. I believe that each one of us possesses an eternal spirit that is greater than our mortal body. I believe that we spend our time on earth learning and growing. I believe that we are brothers and sisters to each other, all part of one great spirit.

"I'd like to add something," said Mouse. "When Father says learning, he's talking about moral learning. Many times in our lives, we must make serious decisions. When we make these decisions, we have to choose to do what is morally right, or wrong. We believe that we must make those choices for ourselves, no one can tell us what to do."

"We believe we're accountable for our choices, good or bad, and there are always consequences," said Mary.

Olivia leaned forward and said, "We stand up for what we believe in, even if it means we'll be ridiculed, or even physically attacked."

"It's the spirit that we share that gives us the strength to do what is right," said Pascal.

"We feel the spirit most strongly through our family, our spouse and our children. Marriage is central to our way of living," said Winslow.

"Most people think of a marriage made in heaven as a rare thing, but we believe all our marriages are made in heaven. For us, marriage is for eternity," added Jamie.

"When a man and woman from our community get married, they promise they will stay together forever," Kanin said softly, his eyes focused warmly on Olivia. "They promise they will stay together on earth and in heaven after they die."

"Our marriage ceremonies don't include phrases like, 'Till death do you part,' or 'So long as you both shall live,'" said Vincent, his voice golden, deep and rich. "We will live in love for all time."

Catherine took his hand across the top of the table. "You people live in happiness, everyday. You're content, you're at peace…well, until I got here." A soft chuckle ran through them. "Do I want that? Who wouldn't? But isn't the question really, am I ready to give up everything I own, and come here empty handed? Because my family will disown me for doing it. No money, no job. Am I ready to do that?" She paused. "Of course, here's what you don't know: In New York, I lived every day in fear. Fear of coming up short of everyone's expectations. Fear of failing. Fear of losing the faith of my family, particularly my father. There's no fear, here. Here, there's no abandoning people because they don't measure up." She drew a breath. "And the ruthlessness. Everyone else's is terrible, but _mine_…I don't believe some of the things I've done in pursuit of dollars. The friends I've lied to and cheated, how many trusts I've betrayed…how many times my trust was betrayed…" She shook her head. "I believe that I have found, here with you, a pearl of great price," she looked at Vincent, "and one perfect gem, and I will give everything I own to purchase them." She drew a breath. "'To dream the impossible dream'? Yes, I will do my very best to dream with you, if you will guide me."

Vincent used his arm to sweep aside their plates, leaned across the table, pulled her up by the shoulders, and kissed her.


	3. Chapter Six - The Birth of Empathy

It was the middle of July, the day of the Summer Festival. The entire farm was journeying to the Mayopelley village to celebrate the season. There would be games for the children and the adults, and of course food and drink.

They utilized every conveyance they owned, the flatbed truck, sides installed, filled with hay bales for the children, the two pickup trucks filled with older children, the van carrying the babies and moms, and all the horses were ridden; everyone else walked. The vehicles were driven at less than five miles per hour. Vincent and Catherine walked alongside, fingers interlaced.

"Vincent, you seem sort of sad," said Catherine. "Isn't this supposed to be fun?"

"Summer Festival," he answered, "the Mayopelley call it _Shicotaddes Verao_, 'Summertime Spanking'. We walk over there, and we challenge each other to some game, it's not important what game we play. And it's humans versus Mayopelley. And humans lose, every time. The games always depend on strength, so the Mayopelley win. Over the years, a rivalry has developed."

"It's more than a rivalry," said Kanin. "The last ragged scrap of friendly competition fell away long ago. We have a penalty for losing. The losing team has to serve the winning team two bottles of beer. The Mayopelley rack their tiny little brains for the most humiliating way they can make us do it, and that's what we have to do."

"They've made the men wear dresses, and they've made the women wear swim suits," said Jamie. "But they did let us wear a one-piece, if we wanted to."

Catherine tried, but failed to stifle her laughter. "Are there pictures?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"It's not funny, Catherine," snapped Cullen. "They made us say, 'Enjoy your beer, drink in good health, my mighty Mayopelley lord'."

"It's not funny, Catherine," echoed Vincent, kindly. "You may not have noticed, but there's a lot of jealousy between the human males and the Mayopelley. We're competing for a limited resource, human females."

Catherine's jaw dropped. "Oh, no, I did _not_ realize…ooo," she recalled dinner at Vincent's parents' house, with his family. The Mayopelley males did have a certain amount of bluster. They let you know, non-verbally, but not too subtly, they out-powered you, maybe by invading your personal space, or interrupting you. Of course, continually trumping the men at feats of strength would be embarrassing, but then for the men to have to grovel to them would be emasculating.

"Why don't you quit playing?" asked Catherine.

They all stopped and stared at her. "Quit?" echoed Kanin. "That would be admitting that they were _in fact_ our mighty Mayopelley lords. We'll never quit."

They walked for awhile in silence. Then Vincent began speaking.

"_When in July, the days are warm and mild,_

_A call is heard by every flower child,_

_To make pilgrimage over dusty roads,_

_To get our asses kicked to obey an ancient code."_

"Yeah, but you play with the Mayopelley, Vincent," objected Cullen, but he had softened up.

"But my heart still aches for my human brothers," he answered. He continued:

"_But none the less, whilst I have time and space,  
>Before yet farther in this tale I pace,<br>It seems to me accordant with reason  
>To inform you of the state of every one.<em>

"_A knight there was,_

and here he extended his arm to indicate he was talking about himself

"_and he a worthy man,  
>Who, from the moment that he first began<br>To ride about the world, loved chivalry,  
>Truth, honor, freedom and all courtesy."<em>

Father said,

_"As I may walk," our Host then laughed and swore,_

_This goes all right, the bag's been opened well. _

_Let's see who's next now with a tale to tell,_

_For truly has the game been well begun._

_So tell us now, Dame Olivia, if you know one."_

"Oh, me?" said Olivia, caught off guard. She was sedate, usually happier to listen to the conversation rather than lead it. "Hmm," she said, "okay…"

"_Olivia am I, at the farm I was born,_

_I would be lost if I was ever torn_

_Away from this place, my family, my life._

_My husband's my hero; I am his wife."_

Kanin spoke:

"_A lost man was I, until I met her._

_My journey with her, my greatest adventure._

_Time spent with her, my greatest pleasure._

_She's my blessing from God, and my greatest treasure."_

They stopped to kiss, and the entire company sighed, "Awwww…"

Scott went next:

"_Scott Henry am I, a miller by trade,_

_That flour you bake with is something I made._

_Brooke, Lisa, Claire, I hope you feel sporting!_

_Jamie, Jen, Em, I'm coming courting!_

Jamie was next:

"_I'm Jamie, hi! Hi! I think I met a guy,_

_He's pretty smart, and has a kind heart._

_My life before was tough, I grew up pretty rough._

_But livin' at the farm is just the right stuff!_

Catherine laughed. "It's turning into a rap!" she cried.

Mouse moved closer to Jamie and breathed down her neck. She looked up at him and whispered, "It's you, stupid!" Mouse smiled and put his arm around her shoulders.

* * *

><p>"We have the games four times a year, as the seasons change," explained Sarah. The women were sitting and standing together around a picnic table on the green. They were watching the Mayopelley and the men setting up the croquet field. "I thought we'd try croquet this year," she continued. "I know I'm grasping at straws, but I'll try anything to stop the fighting."<p>

They watched Vincent and his brothers experimenting with the mallets and balls. The mallets were only about three feet long, so they were trying to figure out how to stoop down and swing them. Ultan shot his ball through the center wicket and the corner wicket. Rori shot his ball through the center wicket, but it stopped just before the corner wicket. Tierney shot his ball through the center wicket, but it stopped just before Rori's ball. Vincent shot his ball through the center wicket, and it hit Tierney's ball, which hit Rori's ball, which hit Ultan's ball. An argument ensued about which balls could be roquetted. They started shoving, and yelling in Mayopelley. Soon Ultan and Rori each had a foot on Vincent's chest, pinning him to the ground, while Tierney's foot was on his forehead as he lined up a shot using Vincent's head to roquet a ball.

Just as Vincent grabbed their legs and rolled, pulling his brothers down to him, Cindy (Tierney's wife), tapped Catherine on the shoulder. She led her a few steps away, to where Joan (Ultan's wife), and Lynda (Rori's wife) were standing.

"Welcome, Catherine," they greeted her severally.

"Let's hold hands…" said Cindy. She was standing in between Cindy and Lynda, so she took their hands, "…close your eyes, and concentrate on Vincent calming down. Think about images like a calm lake surface at twilight, water lapping the shore…do you hear the bird calling?...a campfire, burning at night, the woods quiet and still…do you smell the smoke from the fire? hear the crackling?...a quiet brook, flowing under a footbridge you're standing on…are there ducks or geese swimming under? are you throwing them bread?…watching a few clouds float by in a clear, summer sky…one or two birds flying…"

They stood quietly for a few minutes. Catherine opened her eyes. Vincent and his brothers were quietly pushing wickets into the grass, pacing off distances.

"Amazing," she said.

"We balance them," said Cindy. "We started off holding hands to support each other emotionally when they fought, and over time we discovered that we could help them calm down with a little directed imagery."

"What else could we get them to do?" asked Catherine.

"We're still experimenting," answered Joan. "And I like your pragmatism!" They laughed.

The field was ready for play to begin, so the men and the Mayopelley gathered to review the rules of the game. The women drew closer as well, to decide where to spread out their blankets.

"Where does the time go?" yelled Donal. "It seems like we just finished punishing you, and here it is time once again for your seasonal spanking, humans!" The Mayopelley laughed.

"Croquet?" sneered Kanin. "And what will the non-homosexuals be playing?"

"This game was my mother's choice!" yelled Vincent angrily.

"She can play with the queers if she wants to, but I'm not wasting my time on a bullshit game for babies," Kanin retorted.

Several Mayopelley restrained Vincent; Catherine started directing soothing thoughts.

"Well, what the hell do you want, Kanin?" asked Garrett. "You humans are too frail to play lacrosse."

"We broke Pascal the last time we tried," said Colm.

"Okay, then. Capture the Flag," said Cullen coolly, but his anger was obvious.

Jarlath laughed derisively. "Your luck's not much better at that than at lacrosse." All the Mayopelley laughed.

"Capture the Flag!" yelled Kanin.

"Okay, Capture the Flag!" said Murtagh. "But when you lose, you will be wearing a frilly apron to serve us!"

"Yeah, ONLY a frilly apron!" added Hugh. A roar of laughter went up.

"Yes," said Pradic, "and address us as 'Lord'!"

"Fine!" Cullen yelled. "And when _you_ lose, _you_ can do all that for _us_!"

Catherine felt her anger mounting. Did the Mayopelley have to be so obnoxious? Did they have to get so much pleasure from humiliating them? She looked at the men. Some of them were so angry they were close to tears. In that moment, her kinship with the commune grew a hundredfold. In that moment, she opened her heart to them, and shared their resentment of Mayopelley ridicule. In that moment, a desire was born in her, to protect them, to defend them, as much as she could.

She stepped forward. "We don't play today. We need time to prepare. We play one week from today. Show us your team." She turned to the humans. "Who plays for the humans?" Kanin, Cullen, Winslow, Mouse, Scott, Michael, Pascal, Randolph, Lisa, Jamie, Jennifer, Brooke, Claire, Emily stood forward. Catherine nodded, satisfied with the team.

On the Mayopelley side, Alby, Colm, Hugh, Jarlath, Tierney, Rori, Vincent, Ultan, Donal, Garrett, Lorcan, Pradic, Canice, Murthagh and Daithi stepped up.

"Wait," said Rori, "Vincent, Catherine, you play against each other?"

"I'm okay with it," said Catherine. "It's just a game."

Vincent remained silent.

"Let's review the boundaries," said Catherine. "We'll walk the field." The field was green space bordered by woods on three sides, a lake on the fourth.

They walked the Mayopelley side of the field. At the far end, there was only a small amount of land and shoreline, then two small islands at about one hundred feet and one hundred and fifty feet out in the lake. Mid-field were the ruins of an ancient mansion, the four stone walls of the exterior. At the boundary line, from east to west, there was a hill, flat land for maybe one hundred feet, then a small waterfall with a six foot drop. Just trying to infiltrate their territory would be very difficult. Running for a flag, then escaping didn't even look possible.

The human side had a few ground swells, and one hill, but it was basically level ground.

They returned to the flat land on the boundary line to discuss the rules. "We will have two jails, one in the water by the far island, one in the basement of the ruins," said Ultan.

"Two jails?" challenged Catherine. "In that case, if we tag one of our team being held prisoner, we get a jail break, all the prisoners from both your jails go free. We'll have one jail deep in our territory. You have to tag each prisoner individually to free him."

"How is that fair?!" roared Ultan.

"It's totally fair," said Catherine evenly, "given that you have _two_ jails, _unheard of_ in this venue, and beyond that, one of them is _subterranean_! You've increased the difficulty and risk to our players minimum tenfold!"

"Fine then!"

"Fine. However, we will need some additional concessions from you, since you have an enormous advantage with the terrain."

"Nooooooo! Impertinent human, how dare you-!"

"Would you like to move the boundary line, instead, to run north-south instead of east-west?"

"No!"

"So you admit you've attempted to gain unfair advantage over us."

"No!"

"You'll need to reduce the size of your team down to ten players."

A huge roar went up from the Mayopelley. "Arrogant, brazen female human! We'll have fourteen, not one less!"

"Do you have any confidence in yourselves, at all? How much advantage do you think you need? You have inaccessible terrain and two jails, versus our one jail and flat land. You can't call it a game if you have more than eleven."

"It will be twelve, human, and count yourself lucky you leave this debate in one piece!" Ultan yelled, and would have gone on, but Vincent growled; Ultan backed down from whatever else he had to say.

"We each have five minutes at the start of the game to hide our flags. They have to be in plain sight. When a prisoner is tagged free, they get free passage back to their home territory, but they have to go directly to their home territory. If a player finds the flag of the opposing team, then gets tagged, the flag will be played from where the player was tagged. The game starts at two p.m. one week from today. I'll have a transcript of the rules emailed to you by end of business Monday. May the best team win."

* * *

><p>The farm folks were spending the night in the village with their families, a few staying at the inn, and returning home after breakfast in the morning. At dinner, Vincent's brothers were, predictably, regaling Catherine with projections of the degrading defeat the humans would suffer, and the further humiliation they would suffer at the hands of the Mayopelley, <em>mwa, ha, ha<em>.

Catherine smiled and nodded, but didn't bother trying to answer the bluster. Rori became frustrated with her lack of emotion. "What's wrong, human? Have you run out of conversation? You had plenty to say in the park this afternoon."

Catherine shrugged. "Maybe you guys are writing a check with your mouths that your butts can't cash. Maybe you'll see Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane. Because, frankly, I've seen quite a bit of your 'athleticism', and you're not that good, fellas. So maybe it's you that needs to be worried. Jus' sayin'."

They put up such a roar that Vincent invited Catherine to go for a walk, to the green, to watch the sunset. "Catherine," he began, "let me ask you about something I've noticed that you do."

She seemed a bit miffed. "I don't think I'll be apologizing. If they're going to dish it out, they need to be able to take some back."

He chuckled. "No, Catherine, they don't have any apologies coming. But it was a beautiful illustration of what I want to talk to you about. You don't get angry easily. I admire that about you."

"Thank you, Vincent, that means a lot to me." She squeezed his hand.

He stopped and took hold of her shoulders. "I also admire your courage, your determination, your intelligence," she lowered her head, and he lifted her chin, "your creativity, your depth of feeling, your patience, your beautiful eyes and your delicious lips. That's the short list." He started walking again. "Come on before I start kissing you.

"My brothers ran their mouths for almost an hour, but nothing they said disturbed you. The handful of words you said to them tore their hearts out. I remember when you were still on bed rest, and you would disagree with me about a philosophy or…"

"…the exercise of compassion?" she supplied.

He smiled and patted her hand. "Yes. And Catherine, again, I apologize, I would lose my temper and yell at you and even call you horrible names—"

She patted his hand.

"—but you never lost your temper. You never got angry. My brothers were badgering you, and the only thing you got emotional about was asking for a dinner roll."

"I had four; did I look like a glutton?"

"No. Let me ask you, how do you not get angry when someone provokes you?"

"Hmmm, good question. When I was in law school, we'd have mock trials. You know I'm competitive, so I wanted to win. And as soon as I heard my opponent's voice rise, I knew I would win, because they were getting angry. So I would focus on pushing their buttons, making them angrier so they would focus on being angry and forget about trying to win. So I guess I didn't try to win as much as I tried to make them lose.

"Then, over time, it became a habit. I'd notice someone was getting angry, and I would analyze it. Why are they angry? When I figured out why, I knew their weakness, and I played on it. Now, it's so automatic, I analyze everything everyone says. Why did they say that? What do they want? What do they hope to accomplish? When would it be logical for them to make a move? Where would they make a move? How do they usually go about getting what they want? It never occurs to me to take personally what people say, because I'm figuring out what it says about them."

He considered his next words carefully before he said them. "What did you think of me when I was ranting at you for not measuring up to my expectations?"

She stopped and pulled him to face her, then pulled his arms around her waist. "I think you still feel guilty about that, so let me remind you about something. It's this very thing we're talking about. I never took anything to heart, never. All those stories you read to me, about people behaving with kindness and love to their fellow man, that was nothing more than debate fodder for me. You didn't reach my heart until you raised your voice, and had you not done that, you and I would not be standing here right now. I'd be back in New York. You know that's true, Vincent." She paused, but continued to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to feel guilty anymore, okay? And to answer your regret-laden question, when you became passionate, I realized that the weak, the vulnerable, people who have no voice are very important to you. That you wanted to be their champion. And I thought that you must be a very wonderful, very beautiful person."

"I _am_ going to kiss you," he said, and he did.

They had reached the green, not far from where they would play Capture the Flag.

"But you did get angry when we were on the green this afternoon. The humans and the Mayopelley were going back and forth about what game to play."

"No, it wasn't about what game to play," she said. "That's not what I heard. What I heard was the Mayopelley rubbing the men's noses in the fact that they're more powerful. I heard the Mayopelley shaming and humbling the men, and yeah, that made me mad." She sighed. "Can we change the subject?"

"Yes."

She put her arms around him. "I want to sleep in your arms tonight; I don't want to sleep dorm style with my sisters in law."

He returned her embrace. "I want to sleep holding you in my arms."

"Vincent, I want—"

He buried his face in her neck. "Please, don't say—"

She sighed. "I can't help it, I want you to make love to me—"

"You're going to break my heart, begging me for what I want so much to give to you—"

"I miss your parents' cabin…I loved that time with you…"

He squeezed her tighter, then eased off. "Sorry, I don't mean to hurt you."

She used both hands to grab his mane, pulled his mouth to hers, and bit his lower lip, hard. He laughed, squeezed her tighter, and kissed her.

"Should I bite you back?" he whispered in her ear, and nuzzled her neck.

"Only if you tie me up first," she whispered back. He moaned and nipped at her neck.

"Oooo, baby, are you nibbling at me, _before_ my spanking?" She moaned.

He pushed her away abruptly, and held her at arm's length. He closed his eyes, and worked to catch his breath. "You," he said, "you and me, we're taking a swim." He started moving with her in tow, toward the pool of the waterfall.

"Now?"

"Right now."

"Don't you think the water will be cold?"

He caught her wrist. "Oh, I know it will be."

"Noooo!" she squealed, and tried to break his grip.

"Resistance is futile. Get those clothes off or I'll throw you in with them on."

"Noooo!"

"This is your fault. You did this. I am so hot for you right now, I have got to cool down, and I'm cooling you down, too. Get 'em off."

They were beside the pool. He sat on her to pin her to the ground. He stripped himself, then her.

"God, Vincent, what if someone sees?!"

"You should've thought about that before you started talking about spankings."

He picked her up and jumped in. The water was _cold_, and very deep, even close to the bank. They surfaced.

"You are a fucking bully," she said, making an observation.

He pushed her head under.

She surfaced. "You know, this cold water…it's actually invigorating…I'm feeling…frisky…my nipples—" she pointed her index fingers straight out.

He pushed her head under, and when she surfaced, he pushed her under again.

She came up laughing. "Okay. Two laps and we go home?" she asked.

"Three."

In bed that night, he dreamt of holding her sweet-smelling, lovely body, just before his brother pushed him off the bed.


	4. Chapter Seven - Capture the Flag

They were lying on their backs in the grass, holding hands and watching the clouds float by.

"That one looks like…a rose," said Vincent.

"That one looks like…a cloud, I got nothin'," said Catherine. They laughed.

He rolled and pushed up on his elbows. He picked a clover flower and gave it to her. The sunshine was warm, and baked the grass; the earthy scent rose up around them. They had just finished staking out where the foundation would be dug for their house.

Vincent explained to Catherine that their houses were built in the English Tudor style, with exposed timbers, stucco, and usually a turret. "Ooo," sighed Catherine, "I want a turret." Vincent said they could have one, but warned her that it was difficult work that had to be done precisely. He explained that they used the rock from outcroppings of bedrock on the farm to supply the facing on the exposed area of the foundation, and the turrets. Also, they had their own lumber mill. He explained that Winslow would rent a bulldozer and dig the hole for the foundation on Monday.

She felt butterflies in her stomach. "This is really going to happen."

"Yes."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

It was a nice week. They spent the days and evenings together, except for the time she spent planning strategy with the Capture the Flag team, which actually turned out to be quite a bit of time. But otherwise, Catherine was his until they stumbled, half asleep, to their separate beds.

The foundation was poured and cured during the week. Catherine was actually quite a bit of help. She paid rapt attention to his instructions, made sure her set ups were correct before proceeding, and once she got the hang of the job, she got into a rhythm and banged it out. On Friday, the day before the War of the Flag, as Vincent had dubbed the Capture the Flag game, they were preparing to put down the subfloor on the main level. At dinner they were toasting each other to celebrate being a day ahead of schedule when Vincent's sister, Portia, arrived.

"I've come for you, Cathy! Grab a change of clothes and let's go!"

"What's going on?"

"We're having a bachelorette party for you!"

"No—" Vincent began, but never had a chance to finish. His brothers and a dozen of their friends rushed in and subdued him, while yelling about a bachelor party. He was fighting as if for his life; they dragged him out of the farmhouse and loaded him into the back of a pickup. Catherine made the raised-shoulders-elbows-bent-palms-turned-upward gesture of 'what's wrong?', then the arms-extended-palms-outward-downward-brushing gesture of 'g'wan, g'head, get outta he-ah, have some fun'.

The women smiled and waved as the truck's brake lights grew smaller and smaller, and then were gone.

He woke up in the yard in front of the farmhouse, his cheek in a puddle of mud created by his own drool. The sun was warm and he was overheated. He lifted himself to his hands and knees, and retched. His head _huuurrrrt_…ice, he needed ice…he managed to stand, and shuffle slowly to the playground.

Zach and Geoffrey saw him coming, and ran to him.

"Vincent!" they yelled.

He made the universal palms-down gesture for 'shshshush!'

"Hung over, huh?" asked Zach.

"Need some ice?" asked Geoffrey.

Vincent fished in his pocket. He pulled out some bills. The boys took them, and ran into the farmhouse. Vincent shuffled to an oak tree, and lowered himself down it. He sat on the ground below it, resting his back against its trunk. A few minutes later, the boys emerged from the house with a couple of ice bags.

Twenty minutes later, the boys were sitting in the swings on the playground, talking. He asked them, "Where's Catherine?"

"She never came home last night."

He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He closed his eyes and reached deep inside, past the hangover. He felt her. She was happy…not hung over, God bless her…stomach full…excited…not close in proximity, but not terribly far away…she was probably at _Dosal Dayeh_. _Maybe she spent the night with Portia…_

"What time is it?" he asked them.

Zach looked at his watch. "Ten-thirty."

Perfect. He had enough time to clean up and walk over with the humans.

By two o'clock, the players had taken the field. Vincent, Ultan, Donal, Garrett, Lorcan, Rori, Tierney, Jarlath, Hugh, Colm, Alby and Pradic for the Mayopelley; Kanin, Scott, Winslow, Jamie, Jennifer, Michael, Brooke, Claire, Emily, Randolph and Pascal for the humans.

"You're missing a few players," grumbled Ultan. He, also, was suffering from a hangover, and looked terrible.

"Oh, well," said Kanin, frustrated, "if it wasn't important enough for them to show up, then screw 'em." He handed Ultan a red bandana. "Here's your flag."

"Vincent, can't you keep track of your woman?" sneered Donal.

"I guess not," said Vincent. She was close, he could feel her.

_Hee-hee, I'm right here! Okay, Cathy, stay calm, stay quiet…_

"Alright, Donal, Lorcan, Pradic, you'll be our flag guards. Rori, Jarlath, you're our jail guards. Hugh, Tierney, Alby, Colm, you're offense. Me, Vincent, Garrett will be defense."

"Hugh!" called Claire. "I'm a jailor…get caught, okay?"

"I'm a jailor, too," called Jennifer.

"Me, too!" called Emily. Apparently, there was a uniform for human jailors consisting of a bikini top, short shorts, and high heeled sandals. And lots of make-up, and big hair. And perfume.

Kanin faced the rest of the human team. "We know our positions. Let's go!" Winslow, Kanin and Scott took defensive positions. It looked like Randolph, Brooke, and Michael were going to play offense. Jamie and Pascal would be flag guards.

"We've got a cooler full of cola and Wild Turkey in our jail!" yelled Emily.

"And we'll be dancing!" yelled Jennifer. They slowly danced their way to their jail.

"We start in five minutes from…now," said Kanin. "Hide the flags!"

Flag guards took the flags and ran, deep into their own territory. Offensive and defensive linemen took positions. Hugh, Colm and Alby stood staring at Jennifer, Claire and Emily.

_How I wish I could see where they're hiding it! Oh, well, it's gotta be on that far island, like we were thinking._

Kanin watched his watch. "On your mark…get set…go!" And the game was on.

Colm, Hugh and Alby walked to the human side and were tagged immediately. They ran to the jail to join the women.

The human offense feigned enough encroachment of Mayopelley territory to keep their defense occupied, but not enough to risk capture. Ultan moved Lorcan from flag guard to offense.

_Good, Randolph, Michael, good work Brooke, keep them too busy to see us…we're on the move_. Catherine could see Cullen and Mouse advancing into Mayopelley territory, at the same pace she and Lisa were.

"Oh, my god," said Lorcan to Tierney. "Do you see them?" He was staring at the human side jail. Hugh, Alby and Colm were drinking, feasting and dancing with the human females. The humans had parked one of their vehicles, equipped with a powerful amplifier, by the human jail. The jailors cranked up the volume.

"They're having a party over there!" cried Lorcan.

"Lorcan, c'mon, we have to figure out how to get past these humans!" yelled Tierney. "I would so much rather be drinking over there than farting around over here," he said quietly to Lorcan. "Why do we even bother to play anymore? The humans are incapable of winning. And what's wrong with spending a little time with a pretty girl?"

"Looking's not touching," said Lorcan with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, looking's _not_ touching, and Cindy gets to reap the benefits, so who gets hurt? No one!" They laughed.

"I'm going to go get caught," said Lorcan.

"I'll be there soon, brother!" said Tierney.

Lorcan made a fairly good show of trying not to be tagged too quickly, and joined the party in jail. Ultan moved Rori and Jarlath to offense.

Brooke made an unwise attempt into Mayopelley territory, and was tagged. The Mayopelley cheered, and told each other the tide had turned. Victory was certain!

Brooke must've worked up quite a sweat, because she jumped in the pool of the waterfall before she jogged to Mayopelley jail. When she got there, she was soaking wet. Her thin tee shirt looked like it was painted onto her body, and she was cold. Luckily, she'd brought a flask filled with Everclear to warm up. She offered some to Jarlath and Rori, to be polite.

Tierney saw an opportunity, and made it past Kanin, Winslow and Scott. Pascal tagged him.

"For a moment I was afraid none of them would tag me!" he laughed to Lorcan in jail, just as Lorcan was passing out.

Donal came running, yelling in Mayopelley at Ultan.

"Wait! Wait! We need a time-out!" yelled Vincent.

Kanin sneered. "There's no time-outs."

Vincent chased him down and dragged him to the Mayopelley side. "If there are no time-outs, I'll take a hostage instead! You get him back when we're finished!" he snarled toward the humans who were too astonished to even think about tagging him.

"Brooke let them drink from her flask," Donal was saying in Mayopelley, "and not five minutes later, they passed out."

_Calm down, calm down, Chandler! Don't let him feel you being GLEEFUL, because this was better than we could even have hoped for, Donal left his post, so the entire back field of _Mayopelley _territory was wide open!_ They crept faster to the shore line.

"This all bespeaks a very sad breakdown of discipline," said Ultan, also in Mayopelley. Speaking Mayopelley was not for secrecy, since Kanin spoke it, too, but rather because they were still hung over, getting tired and confused, and it was easier for them. "Look over at the human jail, Vincent." Colm, Hugh, Alby and Lorcan were lying on the ground, passed out. They could see Pradic throwing back Wild Turkey and Tierney dancing and drinking with the women.

"So it's only the four of us?" said Garrett. "What can we do?"

"We'll just have to guard the line," answered Ultan. "We all play offense and defense. Does anyone have a better idea?"

"I want to know," said Vincent, "where is Catherine? And Mouse, and Cullen, and Lisa. They all spent a lot of time planning for this game. So where are they? I don't think they just blew it off, as they say. I think the humans are up to something… something that we're not seeing."

"I think that's likely, Vincent, but what could it be? How could we find out?" asked Ultan.

"We could try to torture it out of him," said Donal, indicating Kanin.

"Good fucking luck with that," said Kanin, in Mayopelley.

"Okay, so we all play offense and defense, and watch out for anything strange," said Ultan.

Vincent released Kanin, who returned to the human side of the field. The Mayopelley spread out across the boundary, and crouched into a readied stance.

They all reached the shoreline in Mayopelley territory at the same time, the men having approached from the west, the women from the eastern side of the field. Lisa pulled a snorkel out of her pack, and swam underwater to the far island. She was back in less than ten minutes with the Mayopelley flag.

For awhile, the humans continued their half-hearted attempts to cross into Mayopelley territory, but vigorously guarded against Mayopelley encroachment into theirs.

_Whew! That was a lot to accomplish, but now the really hard part begins_. Catherine pulled a white handkerchief from her small pack, raised it up and waived it.

Winslow saw the signal. He signaled with his hand, and all the humans yelled, "Ollie Ollie oxen free! Ollie Ollie oxen free!" And then all hell broke loose.

Randolph and Michael rushed Garrett, and tackled him. Winslow and Kanin rushed Ultan, and tackled him. Scott and Pascal rushed Donal, and tackled him.

"HEY, ASSHOLE!" Vincent heard Cullen's voice from behind! He spun around, and saw two pieces of mud standing up in the woodsy portion of the field—it was Cullen and Mouse, covered with mud and dry grass from head to foot, and Mouse was waving a blue bandana, their flag! Vincent ran after Mouse, and Cullen ran to intercept Vincent.

He'd almost reached Mouse and the mansion ruins deep in his own territory, when Vincent heard a terrific cry go up. He turned, and saw two pieces of sod—NO, it was Lisa and CATHERINE! At the eastern boundary, covered with mud, mud plastered into their hair, covering their faces, and dried leaves and grass stuck to them…and Lisa had a red bandana…OH, GOD, what a mistake, THAT was their flag…he dragged Cullen and Mouse about ten yards before they lost their grip. He ran for Lisa, who just stood there, of all things…Catherine was running away from her, down the boundary line…then Lisa threw the flag (wrapped around a softball) in a long toss, which Catherine caught. But there was no way through the boundary line. The humans were barely holding the Mayopelley, and no place was secure enough to attempt to break through.

_Shit, shit, SHIT! There's no place to run through…_

Vincent had lost time breaking free of Mouse and Cullen, then running toward Lisa and having to reroute. She was close to the pool of the waterfall when he caught up to her. She screamed, "NOOOOOOOO!" and went into a slide; she scooped up a handful of dirt, and threw it in Vincent's eyes as he grabbed for her. He staggered back. There was no other way, now; Catherine jumped into the pool, swam to the waterfall, and dove from it into the human side.

Vincent screamed at her falling body, "NOOOOOOOO!" but it was too late. All the struggling between Mayopelley and humans stopped at the sound of his cry. They watched, transfixed. He followed her into the pool, and jumped off the waterfall—he did not know how to dive. Catherine surfaced close to the bank on the human side, and clambered up. She threw the flag to Jamie, about sixty feet away. Jamie in turn threw it to Pascal, who had only to run a few feet to the human flag and VICTORY!

She ran, screaming with joy, to Jamie and Pascal. They all ran to the boundary line, where the rest of the team was leaping, screaming, and hugging, crying with joy.

Vincent knelt down in the grass beside the pool, closed his eyes, and waited for his heartbeat to slow down. He tried to wash the dirt out of his eyes. _Well, this turned out to be a bad day._ Sick with a hangover, trounced by _humans_, dirt in his eyes that _Catherine_ threw there…_hmm_, he thought with admiration, _I've never seen any human maneuver like that, stopping in mid-stride to slide, then doubling back…not to mention having the presence of mind to pick up a weapon to use against the enemy…me…_

And then she was next to him, with the rest of the humans, helping him up, helping him walk…

…and then he was soaking in a tub at the inn. Catherine was washing his eyes, Brooke was massaging his shoulders and back, Emily was filing down his broken claws, Claire was shampooing his mane, Jennifer was wrapping an ice pack around his right ankle, which appeared to be sprained.

The commune was back at the farm a few days later, at breakfast. Cullen rekindled the same conversation they'd been having about their glorious victory over the Mayopelley.

"I had no idea it would be so hard to hold on to Vincent. I mean, I knew it would be hard, but not _that_ hard. Almost impossible. And that throw of Lisa's…amazing. Maybe next time we should play baseball."

"If they ever want to play us again!" yelled Scott. "Remember them waiting on us?" And the whole room erupted into laughter.

"I liked the little bow in Ultan's mane," said Lisa.

"I liked their make-up," said Catherine.

"…aprons!" everyone shouted out, and laughed.

"And Cathy, that dive of yours, it was beautiful," said Cullen.

"Yeah, but poor Vincent!" said Brooke, and the room went _aaawwww_…

"Scared to death Catherine was going to break her neck diving," said Jamie.

"I've never seen him so scared," said Lisa. "He's going to be so relieved when you two are joined."

"What do you mean?" asked Catherine. "Vincent, what does she mean? Do you control me through the bond?"

Vincent squinted. "'Control' is not the right word…" he began. "Let's go talk."

They stepped outside to the porch. Mary was on her way in.

"Catherine, there's something I've been wanting to say to you for the last few days," she said, and stepped close. She slapped her across the face, hard. "How dare you? After we worked so hard to save you, how dare you risk your life for a game? Don't ever do it again." Mary slapped her again.

Catherine stared at her in disbelief. Vincent pulled her away, and they walked across the yard. Catherine looked back; Mary was still staring at her.

They sat side by side on a bluff overlooking a lake. "You're hurting…" Vincent began. He tried to put his arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. "Catherine…this is another one of those hurts that can only be relieved by leaning on someone. I'm right here, my love, lean on me," he said gently. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. "Mary…would kill anyone who hurt you…almost including you."

"What about you, Vincent? Were you scared when I dove?"

He shook his head, recalling. "Honestly? I thought I was having a heart attack."

"It was only six or eight feet! Nothing! I was diving into at least twenty feet of water! You and I swam in that pool, I knew the depth!"

"So you knew you wouldn't get hurt? I did not know you would not get hurt. I still don't know that you wouldn't kill yourself diving. Father explained to you that neither the height of the dive nor the depth of the water matters. You know anyone can break their neck diving, depending on how they hit the water. And your C4 is cracked.

"When I saw you dive, it was as though the earth fell away from under my feet. I felt my heart being torn from my chest, and shoved up into my throat. I felt like my feet were encased in concrete, and I couldn't run fast enough to get to you. I was afraid I was going to find your body sinking down to the bottom of the pool…" He choked.

She looked up at him for a long time, thinking. Her throat got tight. She looked as if she was about to cry. She reached up and put her arms around his neck. "Hold me," she whispered.

He scooped her up and sat her on his lap, and wrapped his arms around her. He felt a wave of fear wash through her; he held tighter.

"Catherine, tell me what it is," he said.

She sniffed. "I could have killed myself! What the hell was I thinking? I mean, literally, I'm trying to remember what I was thinking…I can't recall. I don't think I _was_ thinking…not like words or sentences, I just knew that I shouldn't dive, but if I jumped, you would jump behind me, and catch me. I knew I had to dive to get out ahead of you far enough to be able to throw the flag in to Jamie or Pascal. And it was just so important to win…we had to win…I knew it was dangerous, but, you know…you can't get ahead if you're not willing to make some sacrifices…you won't win if you're not willing to go further than everyone else…" She relaxed a little. "Oh, my god, that's who I am…that's who I am, willing to go farther than anyone else to win…but is it who I have to be?"

"Is it who you want to be?"

"It's who I've always been…but is that who I want to be? Is winning a heavenly cause? Is winning fighting for the right, or righting the unrightable wrong?" She paused, thinking.

"Those are very good questions."

"No, there's nothing noble or even right about risking my life and scaring the love of my life almost to death to win a kids' game. I can be who I want to be. So am I someone who would be willing to die trying to win?" She shook her head. "I may have been in the past, but the future is mine, and I don't want to be that way anymore." She shook her head. "I don't want to be that way anymore.

"Vincent, I'm sorry I scared you. No, I mean, I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have dived, it was bad judgment, and I will use better judgment in the future."

"Thank you. _Thank you._" He exhaled and hugged her.

She gave him a peck on the lips. "C'mon, I want to go talk to Mary," she said.

"Not so fast," he countered. "I need to say something to you. You are my pearl of great price. You are very rare, Catherine Chandler. Humans don't typically look at themselves objectively, admit their faults, and then try to be better people. You do." He took a breath. "When Lisa said I would be relieved when we are joined, she meant that you would feel my fear for your safety, and it would stop you from taking needless risks. People can tell each other how they feel, but they don't believe they need to act on that. When you feel it for yourself, you do believe. You, Catherine, look at yourself honestly, objectively, without fear, and commit yourself to becoming a better person. You _are_ reaching for the unreachable star, and I don't know what I ever did to deserve someone as rare and wonderful as you, but I thank God for you."

She smiled. "You're my guiding light."

"Mary could probably use a little time to calm down. We could stay here for a bit," he said.

"I'd like that."

"I could kiss you."

"I'd like that, too."


	5. Chapter Eight - Family Ties

Catherine's prolonged absence prompted Charles Chandler to insist on a video call with her. He shipped a laptop loaded with Skype to her to facilitate the call.

The brown SUP truck rumbled up the long farm driveway. Yellow lettering on the side read 'We want you to know what SUP!' It slowed a bit as it neared the farmhouse; the driver made a quarter turn, and drove parallel to the front of the house; a package thrown from the truck sailed through the air, and landed close to the porch. The truck made another quarter turn, and rumbled away.

At the appointed time, Catherine answered his summons. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, honey! How are you?"

"I'm doing really well."

"You look great, Cathy. I guess hippie commune life agrees with you! So, why aren't you back here already?"

"Daddy, I need to tell you something, and we need to talk about it."

"Alright…"

"I want to stay for awhile longer. In fact, I want to stay indefinitely."

Charles was astonished. "Cathy, what are you saying? Look, I need you here—"

"Daddy—I need this. I need some time."

"No, Cathy. Look, what do you think I've been doing while you've been gone? I've been tearing my hair out trying to keep up with everything. I've got clients breathing down my neck, I've got court dates, I've got deadlines, and no one here to help me—"

"There are three hundred attorneys on your staff."

"You are the only attorney with the last name of Chandler. I need you here."

"Daddy, I just—"

"We're fighting appeals, we're lobbying for legislation—"

"Daddy—"

"And we're supporting candidates for city government—"

"DADDY! I can't do it anymore! I can't do it anymore. I've found a better way to live, with these people, here. I want to stay."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Okay, Cathy, I'm coming out there."

"No, Daddy—"

"Yes, Cathy, I'm coming to get you and bring you home."

* * *

><p>Catherine opened the front door to Charles. They hugged.<p>

"Are you packed?" he asked.

"Ah-ha-ha, Daddy, please come in, and let's talk."

Charles entered but didn't get further than the foyer. "There's not much to talk about, Cathy. You're life is in New York, with me, with the firm."

"I've found something better here, something I care about."

"You care about your work! What is this, Cathy? You were happy. Why would you want to give up your life? Think about your friends, your family."

"The work doesn't mean anything to me anymore."

"How can you say that? Think of all the people who depend on you, our clients, all the people who work for us—"

"I can't. I can't do it anymore! I need to do something different! I need something different—

"Look, Cathy, you are a Chandler. The time has come for you to start taking over, leading the firm. How can you even talk about doing something different? I don't know what that even means. How can you not realize that this is the work that gives us the lifestyle we enjoy? The entire family depends on us, you owe it to the family! Think how much money the family has invested in you! How can you be so selfish?"

"Daddy—I do not owe you or our family a goddamn thing. I have repaid my debt to the family many times over. Take this as my resignation, effective immediately. I quit. I'm staying here. I love this place, I love these people, I believe in the same things they believe in."

"Well, my goodness, forgive me, Cathy, I didn't realize that you had _beliefs_," he sneered sarcastically. "Tell me, what is it that you believe?"

"I believe in kindness and love, honesty and connecting with the people you love."

"These people have brainwashed you, somehow. Must be a cult."

"This is my authentic self, this is the self I was before you convinced me to be angry, avaricious, envious, and prideful."

"I never taught you—"

"Just because the lessons took a lifetime doesn't mean I didn't learn from you. I did. Mom did, too. You gave her that same speech, 'you owe the family'. It drove her to kill herself."

"How dare you!?"

"Daddy, I love you, I will always love you, but I'm not going to die for you. I'm not going to become so unhappy that I kill myself, and neither am I going to die an inch at a time, brainstorming how to squeeze another dime out of clients we're already squeezing."

"So you're going to take up residence with the clodhoppers?"

"Yes, I'm going to live amongst them and learn their ways. I'm going to lie on my back in the grass, and watch clouds drift by, and learn how to love my neighbors. I'm going to swim in the lakes, and run through the woods, and volunteer my time to the nursing home, because that's what these people do. I'm going to spend two afternoons a week helping out at the church daycare, so parents can work without worrying if their kids are safe. I'm going to listen to poetry readings, watch children performing Guys and Dolls, sing hymns in church on Sunday, wash dishes and sweep floors! I'm going to live every minute of my life like it's my last! I'm going to love and be loved, Daddy!" She grasped his forearms. "Be happy for me!"

"Cathy…" He lifted her hands off his arms and held them. "What do you say to coming back to New York with me just so you can see some doctors there?"

She pulled her hands away, slowly. "What kind of doctors, Daddy?"

"Well, specialists…you were hurt very badly, you want to be sure you've healed…correctly."

She smiled out of one side of her mouth. "You're going to run me past a few psychiatrists who will swear that I'm insane, then you'll file for guardianship and institutionalize me until I agree to return to the practice. No."

"Even if you stay here, I can still file for guardianship."

She smiled. "Go ahead. Maybe I'll file for guardianship for _you_. Because who's crazier? Me? For wanting some happiness after years of misery? Or you? For wanting to have your perfectly rational daughter committed?"

"Years of misery? What are you talking about? You loved practicing law."

"Practicing law, maybe, but what we did…Daddy, what we did…" She shook her head. "Lies…manipulation…cheating…we tied up environmental protection laws for decades with ridiculous legal challenges so our clients could wring more bloated profits from the consumers they were poisoning…we advised our clients to destroy evidence, assisted them to commit perjury, we aided and abetted one felony after another, Daddy.

"You have no idea how much I was drinking six months ago. How much cocaine I was using. However, I will say that there's nothing like crystal to get you through the day after a few days of bingeing. And sex. I let men use me. And I guess I used them, too."

"Oh, god, Cathy, I don't want to hear any of this!"

"That's the problem, Daddy—"

"Okay, fine, you don't want to come back, fine, we'll see how long you stay here." He strode to the front door and threw it open.

"Do you have to leave mad?" she asked his back.

He stormed out and toward his car, a BMW convertible, Z4 sDrive35is, Valencia orange, 335 horsepower, three liters, six cylinders. She followed him. He got in the Beemer and slammed the door shut. He started the engine, and revved it. He started to pull out. She ran after him.

"Daddy!" she cried, waving her arms over her head.

He stopped. She ran up to the driver's side door.

"Please, don't ever forget, I know where all the skeletons are hidden and the bodies are buried, and for you-know-who, that's a literal. So don't try anything stupid." She smiled her sweetie smile. "Safe flight."

She jumped back from the flying gravel as he tore out. She waved and blew a kiss. He raised his arm above his head and flipped her off.

Father came out of the farm house and joined her. He put his arm across her shoulders. They watched the car until it disappeared from view.

"Tell me again," she said.

"Catherine," he kissed her head, "my daughter, I love you." She buried her head in his chest and wept. "I'm proud of you. I am so very proud of you. You had to make a terrible choice, a choice few people have to make, between doing the right thing and pleasing your father. You chose to live with integrity, in love." He sighed. "You turned your back on dishonesty, even though it meant turning your back on your father. My dear, I can feel your heart breaking."

"As can I." And Vincent was by her side.

"Let's go get a cup of tea, shall we?" asked Father. He led her toward the door. "Remember, Catherine, although we are your adopted family, that does not make us any less your family. And when I call you 'daughter,' you are indeed my daughter. You are not alone."

Father led her to 'the parlor', a small sitting room in the farm house. She sat down on a couch next to Vincent. Father went to get the tea, and Mary stepped into the room. She closed the door behind her.

Mary and Catherine had done much more than just make peace. They had spent quite a while in this very parlor, Catherine talking about her mother, Mary talking about her daughter. Her mother had died when Catherine was nine years old. When she was twenty-five years old, Mary's daughter had passed away.

"It's the same thing we were talking about, no matter how old you get, you never stop needing your parents," said Mary. She sat down on Catherine's other side and held her hand. "I'm sure you pulled closer to your father after you lost your mother, and looked to him to fill in on some nurturing."

"My head is spinning," said Catherine. "He nurtured me, in the worst way. Values I learned at his knee were lying, cheating, revenge, envy, apathy, pride, resentment, and greed."

"Still, we all need to feel loved by our parents," said Mary.

Catherine looked at her and started bawling. She put her head on Mary's shoulder and her arms around her neck. Mary put her arms around Catherine's waist, and waived Vincent out of the room.

"I'll go help Father with the tea," he said. He felt Catherine's bonds with Father and Mary growing stronger, and although she was hurting, he found hope in that.

He found Father in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea. "Ah, Vincent. I was waiting for you. I didn't think it would take too long." He handed Vincent a steaming mug.

"What do you mean?"

"She needs mothering right now. Her father was probably the only person she trusted for many years, and now she's had it thrown in her teeth, by him, that he has been using her."

"Trust is a challenging issue for Catherine."

"It's just going to take time before she comes to trust any of us. It's going to take living through day after day of being honest with her, letting her see we will do what we say we're going to do, and acting in her best interests. Do you think she trusts you, Vincent?"

"I'm sure she does. She searches deep inside herself, and reveals herself to me." He opened a canister and reached inside.

"That's good. As time goes by, she will learn to trust the rest of us, one at a time, I'm sure." He paused and sipped his tea. "She is an extraordinary woman, Vincent."

"Yes," said Vincent, taking a bite of jerky.


End file.
